


Summer of our Discontent

by Michael_hearteyes_Wheeler



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Being A waitress is hard, Beverly is just trying her best, Can you believe it?, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Other, almost no angst, like more fluff than I normally write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15461316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael_hearteyes_Wheeler/pseuds/Michael_hearteyes_Wheeler
Summary: Beverly is working as a waitress in Portland two years after the events in 1989. She is 16, lonely, and bored, until someone pays her a a visit.





	Summer of our Discontent

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is the first IT fic that I have ever been happy enough with to post? But im also really nervous so blease be nice to me. Anyway, I love Beverly and Richie as the platonic soulmates they are, so I wrote something to fill the void of happy friends content! Also! this fic is based on the song 'Summer of our Discontent' by Sugar Candy Mountain. its a good song and Bev would love it, I just know she would. I hope you enjoy!

 

_"oh, i really hate this place," she said  
putting on her makeup by the unmade bed, _

_mascara for the lonely want,  
call our waitress "honey" then they tip with ones. _

 

A mild summer can be a blessing for some, but for Beverly Marsh, it felt more like a curse.

 

The light that spilled in through the open window was grey and dingy, making everything look bleak in the confines of her small bedroom. The wind that blew through the opening carried the faint smell of sea water and distant rain. In any other case, it may have been a nice scene. She didn't wake up sweaty from sun cooking against the glass, she wouldn't have to worry about her makeup melting off on the walk to work, and who doesn't love the smell of the ocean? But the ever present humidity and the grey skies that seemed to never move away felt more like a prison sentence.

 

Regardless, she got out of bed just minutes before her alarm clock sounded. The room she found herself in, just like all of the morning before, was just as grey as the world outside. Two years living here, and she never made it her home. Not bothering to put up posters or drawings, or found herself unable to clean the blood from them, even after all this time.

 

Her aunt had been gracious enough to give her a place to stay as far away from her dad as possible, and she was always a kind and caring woman, but they operated as strangers. Beverly grew up wondering where her Aunts big house and expensive clothes came from, and now she knew. The older woman was gone on business trips more often than not. Staying in exotic hotels and wearing sharp power suits while Beverly stayed at home in a self made cell.

 

That's when Bev took up waitressing. It gave her something to do when she was home alone, and it helped pay for food and clothes, and the cost of stamps for writing letters to Derry. That's where she found herself heading on a fine day like today. The shitty 24hr diner down the street. The kind with a jukebox in the corner that still had original checkerboard tile flooring from when it was built, and where the uniforms tried to give off a ‘vintage’ feel.

 

Beverly sat criss cross on the edge of her bed, compact mirror in one hand, and mascara wand in the other. Pulling strange and stretchy faces to apply thick coats of black to her orange lashes. Her hair had grown out some, but she still preferred keeping it short. She hadn't taken the time to wash her uniform from the day before, and it smelled like an odd mix of pancakes and sweat. Wonderful.

 

The walk to the diner only took maybe fifteen minutes, but it was by far her favorite part of the day. The prim and proper looking houses with well kept lawns that diverged into the bustling and filthy sidewalks along 4th street, where most of the shops where. She often liked to imagine the horror behind those perfect walls. What secrets they would tell, what skeletons they had in their closets. She always thought it would be something Richie would get a real kick out of, and as she blew out the bitter smoke from the end of a cigarette she made a mental note to tell him someday.

 

The Diner was slow when she got there. Its neon marquee had burnt out years ago but no one bothered to replace it. Everyone knew it was always open, and it was so generic that the name didn't really matter anyway. She waved passively at the hostess who stood outside on what was probably her fifth cigarette of the day and walked inside. Her first few tables went by in a blur. The old man who always ordered a black coffee and the #7 with extra bacon. The woman who ordered fruit salad and orange juice. The man who usually ordered a pancake breakfast and usually tried to get Beverly's phone number regardless of the age gap between them. That one in particular rubbed her the wrong way. Not just because he was a man who probably had a wife and kids hitting on a 16 year old, but because he rarely tipped. Today he left two crumpled up ones, so at least there that.

 

All seemed pretty normal. Bev stepped out back for her midshift smoke break and shoveled some cold french fries into her mouth as fast as humanly possible so she could spend more time just enjoying the sounds and sights of the street.

 

When she came back inside, she noticed that she had someone waiting in her section. Not a regular, at least not one that was in at their normal time. A man from the looks of it, but he had his oversized menu pulled right up to his nose so she couldn't make out the face.

 

“Can I get you a drink to start with?” Bev asked, putting on her typical oversaturated customer service voice on.

 

“Aye, i'll have a pint if ya got one, Lassie.” The man behind the menu replied. An Irish guy? In Portland? Asking for beer at noon? And something about it felt... familiar. Beverly heart raced in her chest as she curled a finger over the edge of the Menu, pulling it away from his face.

 

And instead of an angry Irishmen, she was face to face with one of the faces she had missed the most.

 

“Richie!?” Bev practically screamed, feeling the corners of her mouth tug upward in a way they hadn't in weeks.

 

“Aw man, what gave me away?” Richie snapped his fingers in disappointment before smiling back.

 

“I- Am speechless! What the hell are you doing here?”

 

“Isn't it obvious? I came in for the amazing hotcakes! Best in Maine from what the menu says.” Richie smacked the menu to prove his point.

 

“You drove for two hours to come get breakfast?” And just like old times, Beverly felt her face turn up into a sarcastic smile.

 

“Well... Maybe you had something to do with it. I do want those hotcakes though, a growing boys gotta eat, you know?”

“Richie Tozier if you grow anymore your head will be through the ceiling.”

 

“The taller I get the closer ill be to the stars, my dear Bevy.” Richie looked up whimsically before smiling and turning back to her. “What do you say? Can ya sit and eat with me? Or do these tyrants have you running around all day?”

 

“Well... It is my job.” She looked around the room behind her. It seemed slow enough, at least until lunch rush. “I'll see if I can have a cup of coffee with you, but don't get your hopes up.”

 

“Hopes all the way up, Bev!” Richie winked at her and she giggled before walking into the back.

 

Lucky for her, her manager did little more than grunt at the question. She put in Richies order for food as well as another order of fries for herself. When she walked back out, carrying a hot platter of food, she couldn't help but beam at the lanky, glasses clad boy sitting in his booth. He looked up at her, smiling back as if no time had passed. It made her heart melt a bit, it reminded her of being small and running around town with him by her side.

 

_the summer of our discontent,_  
_every dollar earned was already spent._  
_bitter sweat and circumstance,_  
_layaway dreams, choked on first breath._

 

One plate of fries and a cup of coffee became an apple pie with two spoons. It wasn't long before Bev was snorting with laughter and Richie was blushing, obviously proud to be able to make Bev crack up in the middle of her work place. Eventually she had to get up and tend to other patrons, and once the influx of office workers got off for their lunch break she didn't have much time to sit down at all. Richie's first cup of coffee became two, and then three, and then four, but she cut him off after that because he was practically vibrating in his booth by that time.

 

Bev looked at the clock anxiously, counting down the seconds until she was able to get off work. She thought about walking with him down to the pier, or maybe just up and down 4th st. She wondered if he would stay overnight with her. She hadn't even asked about the others back home, to focused on catching up with him. Richie was a good talker, but he was a good listener too (when he wanted to be).

 

Finally the time came. When she brought his check out to him she had already taken off the apron and clocked out. As soon as he payed they made there way into the parking lot, both giddy and joking back and forth. Bev offered Richie a cigarette as they got to his car but he shook his head.

 

“No thanks. Can't i'm afraid, The spaghetti man made me read some really fucked up book about lung cancer and I promised him id quit.”

 

“Well good for you,” Bev smiled genuinely as she blew smoke out the side of her mouth. “How is Eddie?”

 

A new look crossed Richie's face now. The two of them hadn't been together long, and whenever Bev was in town they mostly had to keep their feelings under wraps for fear of Sonia. But the look of pure warm adoration that blessed Richie's face told her more than she needed to know. “He's good. Were good. Really good actually. Never been better I don't think. But! You can ask him all about it when you see him, he loves telling people how great I am.”

 

He said it so nonchalantly that Bev almost missed whatever he was hinting at. He threw open his car door, gesturing for her to do the same. “Yeah yeah i'm sure. But I don't know when i'm going to see him next. I dont think Ill be able to take time off for at least a few more weeks.”

 

“Oh you silly girl, where do you think i'm taking you? Surely you didnt think id drive all this way and not bring home a souvenir? And what better than a real genuine Beverly Marsh?” Richie teased, starting the engine and rolling the windows down to let the cooler air in.

 

“Richie? What are you talking about? I haven't told my Aunt, I haven't packed my bags!” Beverly laughed from the passenger seat as Richie headed towards the highway nodding casually.

 

“Well we have phones in Derry, so don't worry about your Aunt. Oh! And I packed for you, so don't even worry about that. All taken care of, my dear.” Richie reached into the backseat with one arm and felt around for a duffle bag that he then placed in Beverly's lap.

 

“Jesus Richie! Did you break into my house?” Bev didn't know whether to laugh or to be angry.

 

“Hey, all those years of climbing through Eds window really pays off when you need to break and enter. Did you know the lock on your window is broken? No safe Bev, what if some lunatic got in?” He shook his head like a disapproving father.

 

Bev gaped at him for a while before opening the bag. It was all her clothes alright, but Richie clearly hadn't taken the time to look at what he was grabbing. A couple t-shirts, some socks, one bra that had been on the floor, a pair of shoes that didn't fit anymore. No dresses, no shorts, and only one pair of jeans that were questionable at best as far as cleanliness.

 

“Richie you literally only grabbed like half of what a person wears. There isn't even any underwear in here. Or any pajamas!” Bev chuckled, tossing the bag back into the seat behind her.

 

“Well shit, you can just borrow my clothes!”

 

Bev looked at Richies checkerboard cardigan and wild printed shirt, as well as his jeans fitted more for a stilt-walker than an actual human man. “Yeah I dont think our senses of style really fit together, Rich.”

 

“Im offended, Marsh! How rude! Here I come to sweep you off your feet and you treat me this way? Im hurt, really hurt.” He placed his hand across his chest like an old film actress and Bev just giggled. “You better get on my good side, it's a long drive back to Derry.”

She elbowed him playfully and turned on the radio. He had some Pixies album playing probably a little too loud but she didn't mind. She sat back in her seat and grinned over at the boy behind the wheel. She had missed him so much it made her heart hurt, she really couldn't ask for a better friend. She let her mind wander thinking of all of the other faces she had missed. Mike, and how calm and sweet he always was. Stan, ever the rationalist but who arguably made her laugh the hardest. Bill and his heart of gold who had become something of a great penpal after they decided they were better off as friends. Her mind flickered to Ben, and that made her happy heart stutter and flip over in her chest. She blushed and turned to gaze out the window.

 

“You thinking about ol’ Haystack?” Richie asked as if on cue. “He misses you something fierce he does.” Richie waggled his eyebrows while doing the british guy and Bev snorted.

 

“You know, don't let this go to your head, but I even missed your accents.”

 

“Oof, Bev, that is gonna go to my head. Right to the head of my-”

 

She cut him off by throwing her hand over his mouth. “It's a long drive back to Derry, Tozier.”

 

He laughed under her palm and soon enough they fell into an easy pattern on catching up. Richie talked all about Eddie, practically gushing, and the others. Bev talked all about her crappy job and the lame patrons and it made her feel better to vent for the first time in awhile. The wind that blew through the open windows brought the smell of trees and fresh cut grass, and the closer they got to Derry the smell shifted to farmland and ripe tomatoes still on the vine as well as the oppressive yet homey feel of humidity. It had a sense of danger, it always would, Derry wasn't safe for anyone, but it felt like home.

 

“Hey Rich?” Bev asked during one of the few moments of silence.

 

“Yes, my dear?”

 

“Thank you for doing this. I... I really needed it I think. And I didnt even know until now.”

 

“Anytime, doll. We missed you. Things just aren't the same without you.” He turned his head from the road to give her a warm smile, the kind that still had the crooked teeth from his youth.

 

“I love you, Rich Tozier.” Bev sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as the continued down the snaky highway towards Derry.

 

“And I love you, Ms. Marsh.” Richie leaned his head atop hers, only for a moment, but it said a lot more than needed to be spoken. “And don't worry, I wont tell Benny Boy.”

 

She cackled loudly, punching him in the arm, completely missing the sign that read “Welcome to Derry’.

 

_a little bit of suffering's_  
_just what you need to sweeten things._  
_remind you of whats good and pure._  
_a little suffering might cure ya._

**Author's Note:**

> Guh, could Richie be any sweeter? I love him. So does Bev. If you want to bother me or send requests you can find me @Michael-hearteyes-wheeler pm tumblr. Thanks for reading!


End file.
